Lost in the Fire
by thewaterfalcon
Summary: The aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts has left Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass alone; torn apart from their once-friends and shunned by the whole of Wizarding Britain. As Pansy is plagued by the worst of memories and left broken, Daphne realises that something needs to change and sets herself a mission, which, once in motion, might just alter both girls' lives forever.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N At present, Fire & Ice is remaining un-beta'd, any and all mistakes are on me. Hopefully they are few and far between!**

 **This story is going to be a lot lighter than my other work; Darkened Skies, but there are still a couple of dark elements/triggers; PTSD and the symptoms of are a prominant theme.**

One

"We're lost."

"That is an incredibly negative way to view our current situation."

"What? With the truth?"

Pansy Parkinson watched her best friend in disbelief, as Daphne trudged through the random spot of Romanian countryside the pair were currently occupying, her beautiful face fixated in a confident, and almost _cheerful_ expression.

"You've lost it, officially this time."

"We are _not_ lost." Daphne called in a singsong voice, the blonde now some ten feet in front of an increasingly dwindling Pansy.

"Exactly," Pansy snapped grumpily, letting out a long sigh she'd been unaware she was holding. "For fucks sake Daphne," she growled under her breath as she unenthusiastically hurried her pace, her gaze focussed itself on the sky, mentally noting how it seemed to have somewhat darkened since she'd last paid it much attention.

"Shit, Daph look up, it's getting dark, what are we going to do?"

Daphne stopped, cocking her head upwards, her face scrunched slightly as she examined the sky, which was slowly turning from the sharp, azure blue they had experienced since that morning, into a glorious infusion of pinks, purples and oranges, a stark contrast to the endless array of mountains which framed the grassy valley the pair were currently standing in.

Daphne breathed deeply, her mouth open and her blue eyes looked brighter than Pansy had ever seen them, Pansy couldn't help but smile, despite her irritation, as Daphne spoke, her voice full of wonder, "Oh but Pans, it's beautiful! Skies like that don't _exist_ back home."

"Yeah," even in her irritated, and slightly worried state, Pansy couldn't deny the view that stretched out beyond them was one of the most incredible sights she'd seen; "Wow it really is."

"Come on!" Daphne cried out as she began to move again, her voice equally as upbeat as her bouncing stride.

"Wait, Daph. We _do_ need a plan," Pansy hurried after the blonde, her brow furrowing as she spoke, "we're _wandless,_ remember? And _clearly_ -", she gestured around the valley, "-there's nowhere close by we could even ask to stay at, we have no food, or- What the?!"

Both girls stopped at once, Pansy spun on the spot to stare at Daphne, not knowing whether to be relieved or not that Daphne had apparently felt, whatever _that_ was, as well. Daphne's expression, whilst still oddly chipper, was laced with a streak of confusion, her face darted around to meet Pansy's just as another wave of... _energy?_ Reached them once more. Pansy shivered, _which gave absolutely no indication of the current temperature, as the approaching dusk had remained pleasantly balmy,_ nervously.

Daphne, however, who, Pansy mentally noted, seemed to be striving to prove Pansy's earlier point about her losing it, true, broke into a beaming smile. _Merlin, Daphne;_ Pansy thought to herself, _this, whatever this is, might the reason our dead bodies are discovered in three weeks time._ "You feel that too?" Daphne exclaimed, her voice a beacon of excitement, her eyes widening as though willing Pansy to join in her elation; "Pans, it's magic!"

"Well, yes, I'd worked out that much, but we don't know what _kind_ of magic, or whose magic, or _why_ there's magic here."

"It's a ward I think"

"Most likely, but what if the reason there's a ward here is because whoever cast it isn't too keen on a pair of British sightseers just wandering around whatever they've warded in the first place."

"Does it feel like a bad ward to you?"

"There's no such thing as a _bad_ ward."

"No, it doesn't," Daphne stated, choosing to ignore Pansy's point entirely. "It feels good, _really_ good! Like.. like a river, and mountains, and fire!" And with that, Daphne began to march forward, her anticipation to feel more of the powerful magic was obvious, and a tad, though Pansy would never admit it, contagious.

As they walked, the magical energy surrounding them grew increasingly stronger, until it no longer hit them in waves; Pansy felt as though they were inside a giant, magical pulse, which radiated, not only around them, but somehow, _inside_ her, from the pit of her stomach outwards, to her hands and feet, she felt it coincide with her own heartbeat, oscillating through every single part of her. Pansy had known about, and been in tune with her own magic from a young age, though she'd never felt a sensation like this before. As they walked, her view never varied, but Pansy became aware of subtle changes in her vision, a slight focussing here, a glimmer of the colours around her sharpening there, and a small hue of, what Pansy could only describe as glitter, danced in and out of her peripherals.

Until, all of a sudden, it was gone. No gradual waves, or losing of intensity. It was simply, gone.

"Hello there." A foreign male voice rung out, from somewhere to the girls' left, they'd been in Romania long enough for Pansy to make an educated guess that this man, though with admittedly good English, was local.

Both Pansy and Daphne looked around, as a large figure came into view, seemingly from nowhere, Pansy knew this man hadn't been there a moment ago, and she would happily have bet all her gold that his sudden appearance was a direct result of the magic they'd just passed through.

"You girls lost?" He queried, moving slowly towards them. He was easier to see now and, on her first proper inspection of this mysterious stranger Pansy heard Daphne let out a stifled gasp, Pansy herself didn't have to look particularly long to work out why.

He stopped directly in front of them, and he was, quite simply, one of the most beautiful men either witch had seen in real life. The stranger easily exceeded six foot, clad in nothing more than a pair of worn brown trousers and what looked like battered, dragon-hide boots, his bare torso sported nothing bar a small shoulder bag thrust clumsily over his person. Tanned, olive skin covered an impressive physique and his muscles bulged without effort. A handsome face accompanied a short dark beard in the same shade of brown as his shoulder-length, wavy hair.

Daphne swallowed, her eyes greedily and unashamedly drinking in every inch of this newcomer, "Yes actually, we are terribly lost", a statement which Pansy couldn't help but gift her best friend an exaggerated eye roll for making.

"Hey! Charlie!" The stranger shouted, and yet another figure they'd failed to notice somehow appeared in their vision; "We have two pretty ladies here, they lost!" The second man, Charlie, jogged to meet the threesome, Pansy inhaled, mentally preventing herself from screaming "WOAH!" at the sight of the two men standing before her and Daphne. Charlie's hair was a deep red, reminding Pansy instantly of intense autumn leaves; his face was, whilst more shaven than the first man, fairly stubbly, and his eyes were the same blue as the sea in the height of summer. Pansy's sole critique resided in the fact that this man seemed to favour keeping his shirt on more than his friend did; "Lost, eh?" Charlie began, his accent, a surprised Pansy realised, was English, she exchanged a quick glance with Daphne, before both girls nodded in unison, earning them a chuckle from both men, "Can't have that, can we Felix?" He nudged the first man, Felix, in the ribs mockingly, "C'mon girls, we'll sort you out!" Charlie beckoned towards the way he'd come, "A bit of a climb to the sanctuary, that ok?"

"Err yeah, that's fine," Pansy answered, and curiously added, "what sort of sanctuary?"

Charlie and Felix exchanged devious grins;

"Wait and see!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - I'm very excited that my good friend** **LadyParongsny offered to beta this story for me.**

 **This is where the story starts to get a bit darker; Fire & Ice is ****_not_** **a dark fic, but there are darker elements that come into play which are a driving force for the storyline. The main trigger warning is that this story references Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and some of the symptoms of, in detail. This is something I have personal experience of and I really strive to write it in a real and respectful way. There are also dead bodies described and a condition known (to muggles) as sleep paralysis (probably not really a trigger warning but I get SP and it's bloody scary!) Enjoy...!**

Two

Three Months Earlier

Pansy Parkinson frowned, a barrage of sharp knocks to her front door just seconds before had jolted her from a surprisingly, _for Pansy,_ fairly relaxed, almost sleepy state. Now alert, the witch grabbed a mahogany wand from a small end table, which was located to the left of the large, squashy grey couch she'd been happily occupying. Pansy crept forward, her body stooping slightly into a natural defensive stance as she tightened her grip on her wand. She glanced, very briefly, at her wall clock, the peacock-themed metal timepiece enlightened her to the fact it was closing in on half past ten.

 _Who just drops round this late?_

The knocking came again, more rushed, more urgent this time and lasting a good three seconds longer, which, _when you're poised, wand in hand, unsure if you have any desire to actually open the door to this unknown, nighttime caller,_ was much longer than it sounded. Pansy closed her eyes and breathed the heavy, slow breath she'd so desperately needed, realising she'd been unconsciously holding it, most likely since the first shower of knocks.

As a young teenager, Pansy had never had reason to feel _on edge_ about anything, in fact, seven or eight years previous, she would have relished in the mystery of a random nighttime encounter. Fast forward almost a decade, through a war she had no idea, naively, that she'd ever been a part of, until the 2nd of May, 1998, at seventeen years of age, Pansy found herself thrust into the terrifying and quite frankly, _person-changing_ reality of making the split second decision and determining her allegiance, a decision which would place her in one of two very different camps.

Ultimately Pansy had settled with her heart and, despite having been led, _rather unfairly,_ to the dungeons by an irate and jumped up caretaker, solely because she'd, _okay perhaps rather rashly_ , cried out _something_ along the lines that they should hand Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord. How could she have known that scrawny, glasses-clad mess had actually been capable of defeating his enemy? _Everyone had been thinking it,_ Pansy had mused to herself, annoyed, from the solitude of the Slytherin dungeons, everyone had believed Potter and his two sidekicks had fled, the target on their backs simply too great a threat. She had listened to the options given to her House by Professor Slughorn, he'd made it plain and simple, a cutthroat decision she could see even the instruction of which had caused him great distress; ' _You leave. Or you stay and fight with Potter, for Good',_ he'd stated.

Pansy had watched, swallowing hard, as Slytherin student after Slytherin student was led to the questionable safety of the world beyond the castle. She and Daphne had stood, to the rear of the room and although neither spoke a single word to the other, both were equally aware they had no intention of leaving. And there they'd stayed, two best friends, two _ordinary_ Seventh-Year witches, declared, silently, a fealty to a boy they had both inwardly, _albeit wrongly_ , concluded would more than likely fail his impossible task.

You'd be forgiven for assuming that Pansy and Daphne had been heralded, well not _heroes,_ exactly, but with a substantial amount of praise for their contributions to the battle. Unfortunately, it would seem old rivalries often get in the way of irregular bouts of cohesion. Pansy and Daphne were all but entirely shunned, despite the fact they'd willingly fought against once-friends and actual family members, they watched as Potter, Granger, and Weasley, along with Longbottom, the female Weasley, and Lovegood, of all people, received their Orders of Merlin and a multitude of praise from all of Wizarding Britain. The two best friends then found themselves attending trial after trial for people who they would once have done anything for, but now felt like strangers. Pansy's ex-, _and to date, only_ , boyfriend, Draco Malfoy was sentenced to a long House Arrest, escaping Azkaban at the odd request of Potter himself. Theodore Nott, _oh Theo, you idiot,_ had not been so lucky, he'd placed his faith where he'd believed his only option lay; into his father and only remaining family member. Theodore Nott, Sr had fallen at the hands of the Order of the Phoenix mid-battle. At which point Theo had attempted to flee, but was caught the next day, _having got as far as the English border_ , and detained. There was no getting out of an Azkaban sentence for Theo as no less than fifty eyewitness accounts willingly submitted memories showing the boy fighting for Voldemort's side, the _wrong_ side.

Blaise Zabini, having left the castle when Slughorn presented the option to do so, had never been heard from again, the girls knew he'd had many connections within mainland Europe, and even further afield throughout parts of North America and Asia, due to his mother's incessant habit of marrying increasingly rich, international wizards.

Millicent Bulstrode, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe had joined Theo in prison, their increasing allegiance to Voldemort having been obvious for weeks, _months even_ , prior to the second of May. Their parts in the Battle of Hogwarts had been minimal, Goyle having apparently tried to bizarrely set Potter on fire at one point, nonetheless, memory evidence had convicted all three.

The battle had torn at parts of Pansy she hadn't previously known existed. Her trust for anyone except Daphne was shattered, her nerves were on a constant high alert. Her days were filled with horrifying, inescapable visions and nights brimmed with the highest calibre of nightmares. Some days she saw mounds of illusionary bodies lining the corridor of her small, muggle flat and some nights she awoke with an inability to move, as a hallucinatory dementor lunged over her terrified frame. Daphne, somehow seemingly unaffected by the disturbing memories of the day of the battle, had become Pansy's sole carer, confidant, and comfort.

But now, Daphne wasn't here, she didn't technically live with Pansy, so it wasn't uncommon for her to be away in the evenings, Pansy preferred it that way, she knew Daphne saw the effects her daytime visions had on her, and she was keen to keep her nightmares and frequent temporary paralysis, to herself. Daphne had left _,_ several hours earlier, stating she had errands, a special mission to complete, and not to wait up, she'd see Pansy in the morning. Pansy hadn't pried as to what this mission was and had watched her best friend, at present her only friend, vacate the flat, before carefully warding the door, and casting a multitude of spells, everything from _muffliato_ to a juvenile tripping jinx throughout her home.

Pansy straightened herself up as a third bout of knocks reverberated throughout the hallway she'd somehow made it into. It was a fair assumption that this person wasn't going away. Pansy didn't even trust her broken mental state to be able to focus enough to apparate away without splinching. She considered a silencing charm, though that wouldn't by any means erase the fact that _someone_ was incredibly persistent in their want to, what? Speak to Pansy? Enter her home for something? Pansy was at a loss, and rapidly running out of options. She knew she had to open the door and she knew this was best done quickly. Drawing what minuscule bravery she still possessed and, in a smooth, delicate collection of practised wand movements, Pansy removed the majority of the protection wards around her flat.

"This is ridiculous, you need to let me in, Pans I look fucking mad out here!"

 _Daphne?! After all that, it was bloody Daphne all along! She has a key!_

Pansy hurled the door open and in rushed a flustered and agitated Daphne. Blinking, unable to believe the amount of distress she'd just experienced over opening the door, to ironically, the _only_ person whose presence here didn't cause her distress, Pansy stared at the blonde in disbelief.

"Sorry! I forgot my key, I know, I know...!" Daphne trailed off, the blonde exhaled and studied Pansy, she ventured a small smile; "Your wards are fucking amazing by the way, no way I was getting in here on my own."

Pansy said nothing, but offered Daphne a weak smile in return, before turning and leading Daphne into the living room she'd come out of. She watched, with mild interest as Daphne began to pull a bunch of, _magazines? Brochures?_ From an obviously magically extended designer handbag. There were, _Pansy hurriedly counted_ , twenty-three of the mystery publications. Daphne had perched herself on the smaller couch and piled them on her left-hand side. Pansy watched with interest as Daphne pulled her wand from its usual place, _holding her messy hair bun in place,_ and summoned the small end table to her, Daphne enlarged the piece of furniture to resemble a large coffee table. Satisfied, the blonde began to place the pile onto the table before walking the short distance to Pansy's larger couch, _which Pansy had returned to sitting on_ , dug once more in her extended bag and pulled out a bottle of white wine, _which Pansy noted_ , looked chilled and icy, and ready to drink.

Daphne summoned two long stemmed wine glasses from Pansy's kitchen and expertly uncorked the bottle with a further flick of her wand. "Here," she handed Pansy the glasses and poured a large measure of the pale lemony-coloured liquid into each.

"What's the occasion?" Pansy inquired, handing the left-hand glass back to her best friend, her curiosity was peaking now, Daphne had placed a muggle notepad and pen over the top of the pile of _books(?)_ and Pansy was still none the wiser to their subject matter.

"Us, getting out of this shithole country that doesn't give a damn if we live or die," Daphne answered, never one to beat around the bush. And with that, she pulled off the notebook, opened its front cover and began to make a grid of sorts, she labeled the top of each column with words such as; _weather; culture;_ and _location._ She handed Pansy the first of what turned out to be muggle travel brochures, _something Pansy had never even seen before,_ and took a large sip of wine, "Well come on, we've got a lot to get through!" she added cheerfully.

Pansy, gobsmacked, shifting her gaze between Daphne and the first brochure; _The Absolute Best of France,_ found herself smiling, openly and truly, for the first time in a long time. "This...this might be the best idea you've ever had!" She proclaimed as she experienced the unexpected and unfamiliar chill of something she could scarcely remember feeling. Pansy Parkinson was incredibly, and unbelievably so, excited.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Beta love and thanks to the lovely LadyParongsny**

Three

"Bulgaria? What the hell is even _in_ Bulgaria?"

"Viktor Krum?" Pansy ventured, causing both girls to erupt in fits of laughter, "though," she continued thoughtfully, "I don't really think either of us are his type."

The pair exchanged knowing glances as they fought off more laughter, both their minds wandering back to their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when the boy in question, one Viktor Krum, international Quidditch player extraordinaire, and let's face it, in Pansy and Daphne's eyes, one of the fittest boys to ever grace the halls of the castle. _Mortified_ was never an apt enough description when, on the night of the Yule Ball, a night the two girls had been especially excited about, they saw Viktor Krum, his arm offered, regally, to none other than… " _Granger!_ What the hell did he see in Granger?" Daphne asked aloud with a snort.

"Merlin knows," Pansy answered as she flicked carelessly through the remainder of the brochure that had featured Bulgaria; _Eastern Europe Adventures,_ it was called. "Oh this place looks pretty," Pansy had stopped after five or six pages, her finger tracing a stark, mountainous landscape, "where is it?", she muttered to herself, scanning the rest of the page, "Oh, it's Romania, next to Bulgaria apparently, so fit Quidditch players could still be on the itinerary."

"Fabulous!" Daphne cried, refilling both their glasses, "that's settled then, we're going to Romania!"

"But, what about that place in Italy? Or the French Riviera from the first one?"

"Babe, I promised myself that this trip would be the first place you really wanted to go to, the French Riviera will still be there next year, but-" Daphne paused, her face pointed downwards as she swirled her wine, giving her a focus that wasn't Pansy, "-I'm scared that if I don't get you out of London, or Britain, soon, my best friend _won't_ be here next year…" the blonde trailed off and Pansy didn't miss the solitary tear escape her right eye, despite her hurried efforts to wipe it from view.

"This has been the only thing, in _six months_ ", Daphne continued, "that's made me feel like you're still the same you. And I know that's selfish, I know you can't cope with the memories, I can't too, sometimes, I still see all the people that died, I still see Theo being dragged off, I still, I still…" Daphne's tears were falling thick and fast, Pansy barely felt like she was breathing, all this time, _months,_ she'd solely relied on Daphne to do everything, Daphne bought all her food, five days out of six she'd cook it as well; she'd made sure Pansy drank enough water, had a pair of arms around her when she cried; had coping mechanisms to help when she panicked; brushed her hair, and when Pansy struggled the most, Daphne had even bathed her. Despite knowing that the pair only had each other, Pansy had took but not gave, and that fact was not only harrowing, but eye opening and it was a realisation full of remorse. Sheer guilt crashed down on Pansy like a tidal wave, so consumed with her own grief and her own heartache, she'd barely noticed the strain that taking care of her had most likely taken on Daphne: sweet, wonderful Daphne; who had more sass than anyone she knew, and better hair to boot.

 _I'm the worst friend in the world_

Pansy flung her arms around Daphne, holding her close as they cried together, for reasons different yet the same. "I'm so sorry, Daph, I've been an awful friend." Daphne pulled away, her hands gripping Pansy's upper arms, "No, Gods! Pans, please don't be sorry. You, you were traumatised, you _are_ traumatised, you needed me, I get that, and I'd do it all again, you know that. But now, seeing you actually light up about something again, _I need_ that, _I_ _need_ my best friend back, I need my Pans, because, without her, life is pretty terrible."

The two stayed for hours, on the big couch in Pansy's small living room; crying a lot, and drinking even more. They planned their trip to Romania and fantasized about hot Quidditch players and, whether it was attributed to the copious amounts of wine, Daphne's presence or the fact that she _finally_ had something she felt she could look forward to, Pansy's sleep was blissfully dreamless.

-0-

"No, absolutely not."

"It's not _that_ bad, muggles go in them all the time, look!" Daphne pointed to the small, rectangular picture in _Eastern Europe Adventures;_ "they're apparently totally safe!"

"If you seriously think I'm going to sit for _three hours,_ in some batshit muggle _metal tube,_ thousands of feet in the fucking air, you are deluded, Daphne Greengrass! We'll just book an international portkey."

"No," Daphne elongated the 'o', "Pansy, please! It'll be so much fun!"

"Oh yes, it'll be _tons_ of fun I'm sure, when we plunge to our deaths." Pansy retorted, dryly.

"You're just being dramatic. I'm booking it tomorrow, and you're coming with me! You'll get to meet Thomas Cook!"

"Who?"

"Thomas Cook, he helped me choose all the brochures, it's his shop, see?" She pointed at the logo on the front cover."

"Oh. Oh right, okay. I'm still not liking the tube, though. We _could_ easily book a portkey."

Daphne sighed, "Find your sense of adventure, Parkinson!" she exclaimed, nudging Pansy's stomach with her elbow.

-0-

Pansy shifted uncomfortably in her stiff, metal chair. Having lived, for the better part of six months, in pyjama bottoms, leggings, too-big t shirts and hoodies, the pair of skinny light blue muggle jeans and tight purple vest felt alien against her skin. The August sun burned high in the clear, azure-blue sky as the two best friends sat beneath a large red and white striped umbrella, outside a muggle cafe somewhere close to central London.

"You OK?" Daphne enquired, though she'd been the one to insist Pansy leave the solitude of her flat, Pansy knew that she was in a constant state of worry whether Pansy was going to break down. "Yeah, I'm OK, had to happen some time, right?" Daphne smiled in response as she skimmed the leather-clad folder which housed the cafe's menu. "Do you fancy the sharing platter?"

"Yeah, Daph that sounds good," It wasn't a lie, Pansy felt immensely proud of how she'd handled her first proper trip outside, even despite the fact she'd had to sit with her back situated close to a wall to prevent the chance of someone approaching her from behind and startling her. She'd also required Daphne to accompany her to use a public toilet, yet Pansy knew she was a work in progress and any victory, no matter how small, was worth celebrating.

They'd come to the cafe straight from Thomas Cook's shop, Daphne had waved and greeted Thomas like an old friend as she entered the establishment, a rather garish blue and yellow affair that Pansy wasn't at all keen on, Daphne had exchanged some money at Gringotts before arriving at Pansy's flat and she paid for their trip outright, something, Thomas informed her, was rare, and he found most impressive, which earned the cheesy shop owner a brilliant smile from the blonde, which in turn caused him to hurriedly amend their booking; and improving their flight in the _metal death tube,_ to something he called First Class. This, of course, meant very little to either Daphne or Pansy, and Pansy noted that Thomas looked the slightest bit crestfallen when they failed to react to his exclamation.

"I'll go to the Ministry this week, they can sort that muggle pass port thingy out in a day apparently." Daphne began, her face plastered with a wide smile; "Oh my gosh! Just two weeks, Pans!" Daphne cried suddenly, grasping Pansy's hands in her own; her blue eyes, that matched the day's sky so perfectly, were sparkling with excitement and Pansy felt a strong elation, and even though she was now absolutely dreading the journey there, Romania really began to feel like it might just hold the beginning of something incredibly special.


	4. Chapter 4

**Beta love - LadyParongsny**

Four

The light of dawn showed the clock by her bed displayed five thirty and the glass of water she was searching for must have been knocked over in her haste to grab her wand, it was lying, thankfully not broken, on its side atop the carpet. Pansy could see darkened areas of carpet radiating out from the glass where the water must have shot out.

Still struggling to find a steady pace for her breath, Pansy, her body shaking and her eyes darting to the still-dark corners of her bedroom, quickly summoned the glass, which flew, almost with an air of hesitation, into her open hand. _Can barely do a summoning charm properly now_ , Pansy deliberated to herself, sadly. She managed to semi-fill the glass, her Augumenti at least, doing what it was intended, though Pansy's trembling extremities caused half the water she cast to spill onto her covers. _Shit_.

Pansy drank deeply, before placing the glass as carefully as her shaking hands would allow, back onto the bedside table, before she sat back and simultaneously thrusted her head backwards against her soft headboard. She, _for what felt like the thousandth time_ , mentally scrutinised the reason for her early awakening, always running the same, exhausting thought process through her mind as she remembered the dreams; the _nightmares_. As always, she'd been running through the Hogwarts halls; some indistinguishable corridor she didn't recognise, the precise location being neither important nor relevant. Trying to run, Pansy's feet kept landing and slipping on unrecognisable human parts; sometimes a limb; sometimes what appeared to be an organ; sometimes a face. The more she struggled through, the more body parts appeared, the more blood splattered the walls, splattered Pansy herself and the more eerily familiar the faces became. Until she collapsed, broken and betrayed by her own inability to escape. It was only then the dementor came, _always the one, always the same;_ down it swooped, over and over, as though toying with her, until it finally, terrifyingly, closed the gap between itself and Pansy, _by this point, laying down on her back, entirely vulnerable and unable to shift even an inch_ ; closer and closer it came until the scene switched, always in the same way, suddenly to her bedroom. Now in a semi-conscious state, she always remained, still somehow frozen and exposed until her faculties returned to normal. The dementor, _although she logically knew wasn't there, but any rationale was all but lost to Pansy as she envisioned it clamping down upon her_ , was still very much there. Her mind's eye conjuring up the most grotesque examples of what lay beneath the dark hood of the cloak? _Is it even a cloak?_

 _Creepy fucking things._ She thought with an unforeseen shudder. Pansy sighed, and knowing it was highly unlikely she had any chance of falling back to sleep, pulled on her thin, oriental-themed, red dressing gown. She rose with a large stretch, willing, only somewhat successfully, the memories of the nightmare from her mind.

 _Less than a week now._

-0-

"Okay, how do muggles do this?" Daphne cried, exasperated. The blonde was staring at a large purple something she'd appeared at Pansy's flat with. The something in question was apparently, _according to Daphne_ , what muggles used in replacement of a trunk. A suitcase she'd called it; another, which was identical in every way bar the colour, a dark green, sat at its side. Daphne's current suitcase-related predicament was due to the fact that, for some reason, undetectable extension charms apparently failed to work correctly on them, despite both Pansy and Daphne's best efforts. Whenever they thought they had correctly administered the charm, whatever garment was placed into the case ended up being hurtled, at a remarkable speed, from a front pocket. After five increasingly infuriating attempts, the last of which had involved a quickly placed shield charm and a red stiletto, the pair had given up and vowed to pack sans magical assistance. This, however, meant that their space was rather limited, and for one who relished in the constant purchasing of clothing, footwear and accessories like Daphne Greengrass, a challenge wasn't an apt enough description for the task of packing her suitcase.

 _After the war ended, Daphne had taken what inheritance was owed to her, bought herself her own flat, not five minutes away from the one she'd helped Pansy to buy with her own inheritance, which had been automatically transferred into her name after the death of her father, just another evil Death Eater to fall in the fight, and spent the better part of six months filling it with anything and everything she desired from London's array of muggle shops. Her younger sister Astoria would still return to the Greengrass family home when she wasn't attending Hogwarts, but Daphne having returned, battered and bruised from the aftermath of the battle, a broken Pansy in tow, had found herself all but rejected. Her parents, neither of which had shown any true signs of agreeing with Voldemort's regime, had seemingly begun to make contacts within the Wizarding Britain that_ was _being puppeteered by the dictator and actually held their eldest daughter with an air of annoyance that she'd chosen to fight on Harry Potter's side._

 _When she hadn't been caring for Pansy, Daphne had thrust herself, almost entirely, from the Wizarding community, she had initially tried to actually befriend a number of other war survivors, even at one point reaching out to Granger after an unexpected passing in Diagon Alley, who Daphne claimed, hadn't been rude exactly, but had still seemed less than enthusiastic at the prospect of a further meeting with the blonde._

 _"Can't really blame her, we weren't exactly nice to her, were we?" She'd ventured afterwards with a nonchalant shrug, Pansy had snorted in response. No, they definitely hadn't ever been anything close to nice to Hermione Granger._

"Well, they probably don't take seventy-five new outfits away with them," Pansy answered, trying not to laugh at the fact that Daphne's face, usually so strikingly flawless, had filled itself with creases and turned a rather unflattering shade of red as she now resorted to sitting on her suitcase, in the hope that it might close enough for Pansy to charm the zip closed.

"Very funny. I only bought forty-something new pieces you know, and since we don't know when exactly we're coming home, that really isn't unreasonable."

They had been able to book something called a flexi-return ticket, meaning as long as they let somebody at something called the airline, _apparently the people who owned the death-tube_ , know when they planned on returning, they were free to stay in Romania, or any surrounding Eastern European countries, for up to eight months. Their hotel was booked for an initial two weeks, the idea being that this would give them enough time to figure out roughly how much more time they wanted to spend, and where they might be interested in spending it.

"This is hopeless! I think I will take that hold-it-all bag as well, who, by the way, named that do you think? Right off the mark they were", Daphne pulled the topmost amount of clothes from the overflowing case and starting jamming them in the holdall that lay empty at her feet.

Pansy shook her head and began to open her own case, placing a slightly more modest supply of clothing inside. She had managed to embark on two short shopping trips, both of which had ended in the raven haired witch struggling to breath as she navigated packed crowds, her eyes tearing up at the sheer volume of people, which reminded her too fiercely of the packed piles of dead bodies she saw so often, luckily the short amount of time they'd spent shopping for Pansy had enabled Daphne to get a comfortable idea of the types of clothes Pansy liked most, coupled with the fact that they'd been best friends, _and lived together in Hogwarts for their entire teenage life,_ meant that Daphne was able to do the entirety of Pansy's holiday shopping for her, something that, yet again, gave Pansy reason to be incredibly grateful for her best friend's presence.

 _"Oh, now there's not enough room in the bloody hold-it-all!"_


	5. Chapter 5

**Beta love: LadyParongsny**

Five

Pansy spun on her heel, the only thing stopping her from marching swiftly in the direction they'd came was the firm grip Daphne had balled her hand into as she grasped the sleeve of Pansy's shirt.

"No," Pansy said, bluntly.

"Pansy, babe, we discussed this. You _knew_ it was going to be a bit bigger in real life." Daphne countered as she held onto Pansy's top even tighter.

"Bigger? BIGGER?! It's fucking _massive_ Daphne! It's _way_ bigger than you said it would be and I'm _not_ getting in it."

"Muggles go in them _all the time_ , seriously there are hundreds of them in the sky at every moment." Daphne countered, she'd used this argument a lot in the past few weeks and had become somewhat of an expert of Muggle air travel as a result.

"I. Don't. Care." Pansy hissed through gritted teeth as she attempted to wrestle herself free from Daphne's, _almost impressively,_ strong grip.

It took the better part of an hour and a half; 4 double rum and cokes and a large number of new beauty products, _that Daphne had stated were something called Booty Free, Pansy didn't understand why makeup would contain any sort of booty, yet regardless was pleased with her haul,_ that acted as a bribe before Pansy finally agreed to board the airplane.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Pansy heard Daphne squeal, turning to face her blonde best friend, Pansy drew in a deep breath before the corners of her mouth tugged themselves into a small smile.

"I'm still freaking out, Daph." Pansy swallowed hard, willing the tears that were threatening to gather in her eyes to stay away. She was sitting beside the tiniest window the raven haired witch had ever seen, and until Daphne had spoken, she'd been opening and closing the strange cover that the airplane window had in place of curtains.

"I know babe," Daphne answered, simply. "But that's okay. You've made it this far and that's amazing, and soon we'll be away from Britain and all the shit that goes along with it."

"Yeah, I suppose." Pansy swallowed hard, the fuzziness she'd began to finish her third rum was rapidly dissipating and the witch found herself wishing for more. "Don't suppose they serve booze on this thing?"

"As a matter of fact, they do!" Daphne grinned with her response and grabbed Pansy's arm in excitement,"I read that once we're in the air you can ask for food and drink and stuff."

 _Well, at least there's something to look forward to._

The four-hour long flight hadn't _entirely_ been awful, and even Pansy had to attest to this. The pair had gotten comfortably drunk and Pansy had even managed a two-hour nap, a _much-needed_ sleep considering she'd been up the majority of the previous night trying not to vomit in fear.

Bucharest Henri Coandă International Airport was fairly large, though Pansy noted it didn't seem to have the same feeling of hugeness that Heathrow Airport in London had. The airport was located in a place called Otopeni. Daphne, _who had become a walking-talking Romanian information point,_ informed Pansy as the two young women waited for their luggage to appear on a large, bizarre snake-like contraption that involved a long, moving platform of sorts. Pansy watched in earnest as case after case got pushed through a set of flimsy, plastic flaps and was revealed to the crowd of people they'd just alighted into Romania with. One by one their fellow passengers retrieved their bags and Pansy was beginning to feel a sense of doom that theirs had somehow been left behind when all of a sudden Daphne squeezed Pansy's arm, whispering, "There's yours! Behind that big blue one! Oh and there's mine! Quick, Pans!"

"Bucharest te rog," Daphne informed the driver of their taxi. Pansy swivelled her head to examine her best friend, _what in the name of Merlin?_ "You actually _speak_ Romanian now? When the hell did you learn that?"

Daphne shrugged, "I didn't really, I picked up this book, called a travel guide or something, and it has all these common phrases in it, here I have it with me," Daphne began to rummage in her handbag, a few seconds later she pulled out a small, rectangular book with the words: ' _The Rough Guide to Romania'_ printed on the front.

"That's in Bucharest," Daphne landed one perfectly manicured finger on the front image, which showed a huge, grand building, "It's the Palace of the Parliament."

 _Bloody hell, Daph._ Pansy thought as she thumbed the guide, she knew Bucharest was the capital city of Romania and that their hotel was located on the city's outskirts, within something called _Sector 4_ and in the vicinity of a lake called Lake Văcărești . This had been enough information for Pansy to take in, and in that moment was actually blown away that Daphne had taken the time to actually learn some of the local dialect and looked up places of interest. All in between shopping for the both of them; caring for Pansy in the way she had for the past six months and sorting all the paperwork and finances the girls had needed dealt with before the trip began. Pansy looked up at Daphne's excited face and remembered how the blonde had seemed keen on the South of France and had only decided on Romania because she, Pansy, had shown an interest. Daphne had thrown her everything into this trip, and once again Pansy felt blown away by her best friend's commitment.

"You're the best" Pansy informed Daphne as they settled into the back seat of the taxi, Daphne grinned at the compliment and replied a stark, yet warm "I know!"

"So how long is the journey to Bucharest?" Pansy asked, wondering how precise an answer Daphne would give,

"Twenty-six minutes, if he takes the DN1." The blonde replied without hesitation, earning her a laugh from the dark haired witch, who was starting to believe that maybe, _just maybe,_ she had managed to leave the majority of her demons back in London.


End file.
